The Worst Fault
by esti
Summary: Love is madness. There is nothing worse than falling in love. Or is there? A JackOC fic.
1. Default Chapter

Summary: There is nothing worse than falling in love. Or is there?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC  
  
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Prologue  
  
The sun rose quietly above the clearing. The leaves shuffled gently as the light breeze stroked them. Like butterflies, they separated from the branches and glided down unto the golden carpet. Here and there, a bird would send out a call of beautiful song but would remain hidden. No animal moved in the clearing.  
  
Trees swayed now in the growing wind and shadows passed across the ground, rain clouds gathering from the North. The birds took flight, shrieking in fear, circling trees as if signaling danger. It seemed the wind itself was fleeing from a disaster. Trying to get through, it tore at the helpless trees whose groans echoed in the depths of the one natural soul. A loud crack and a huge branch fell dead onto the carpet which appeared to shrink beneath the heavy sky. The final warning. Like shattering glass, lighting flashed and boomed as a thousand gunshots in a massacre. The rain came mercilessly. The sun was long gone, sunken by the shadows.  
  
Suddenly, all grew quiet. Not a drop dared touch the ground, afraid of breaking the silence. Not a leaf dared fall, as not to disrupt the stillness. Something appeared in the clearing and then, once again, the rain poured and lighting flashed. Nature released itself in full force. The wind howled in pain of being lashed by the icy drops, like needles, piercing the air and the flesh of the Earth. What trees could not withstand the storm, fell. The others readily accepted their fate.  
  
With a stroke of compassion, the clouds began thinning and made way for the clear sky. Venus, the planet of love and harmony, shone, a faithful bodyguard followed by the king. The sun rose in all its royal majesty and poured its gold over the land. The rainwater seeped deep into the ground, hiding from the brilliant radiance. The trees and grasses extended their hands to the savior. The king paid no attention, trained by thousands of years of repeated ritual.  
  
No one noticed the man, lying in the clearing. Only the sun frowned at the scene. The gold coins in the man's hair, such a pathetic mockery indeed. 


	2. Intro

My first real chapter. Fun fun! R&R!  
  
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ROSALIND  
  
There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he  
  
taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage  
  
of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.  
  
ORLANDO  
  
What were his marks?...  
  
"Lily!"  
  
"Yes?" I put the script down.  
  
A tall scragly boy with short curly hair ran into the hall. Slightly tripping, he hung on the door handle and smiled at me sheepishly. The director slammed the script down and the sound echoed in the bare walls.  
  
"Lily, who is this young man?" he stared at me accusingly.  
  
I was rude enough not to answer and quickly ran toward the guy. He got himself untangled in the door way and approached me waving some papers in the air.  
  
"You got the tickets?!" I screamed joyfully.  
  
He nodded and steadied himself as I flung my arms around his neck. Then drawing back, I grabbed the tickets in my hands and jumped up and down in excitement.  
  
"Second row! How did you get them?"  
  
The boy smiled.  
  
"Waited at the ticket booth for hours before it opened."  
  
"Meir, you are something else!" I laughed and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
My best friend gave me a quick hug before a booming voice made us all jump.  
  
"Lily! Are you through yet?! Celebrate on your own time!!! Just fifty more minutes of rehearsal left and then you can kiss all you want."  
  
Both Meir and I blushed as I returned to the stage and my script.  
  
...ROSALIND  
  
A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and  
  
sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable  
  
spirit, which you have not, a beard neglected,  
  
which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for  
  
simply your having in beard is a younger brother's  
  
revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your  
  
bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe  
  
untied and every thing about you demonstrating a  
  
careless desolation; but you are no such man; you  
  
are rather point-device in your accoutrements as  
  
loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.  
  
The sidewalk slowly creeped from under my feet. Meir walked next to me, looking straight ahead. Rehearsal didn't go so well, especially after my little show. No, not good at all. The streets were decked out in golds and reds, warm colors of early autumn. A group of students passed us, loudly discussing the storm on the previous night. I shivered. Since childhood, I was afraid of thunder.  
  
"So, how's it going?" Meir asked cautiously.  
  
"Pretty good," I smiled, "Now that I got tickets to the concert of my dreams."  
  
"I don't mean that," he tilted his head to look into my eyes.  
  
"Oh, that," I looked down at my feet. "It's going like it has been going for many years now, Meir. Things don't change."  
  
"Yes, they do."  
  
"Not for me."  
  
Our feet shuffled in the leaves as we came up to Meir's house. He stood before the front porch.  
  
"You want to come in?"  
  
"No, thank you. I'm going to take a walk. I need to relax," I smiled. "Bye."  
  
"Bye," Meir waved to me and opened the door, looking down at his feet as though in disappointment.  
  
I shrugged and headed for the forest. 


	3. The Forest Clearing

Hullo! That chapter took me so long. Especially, after my "self-discovery" trip to Israel. Well, let's see how this goes then. Please review!  
  
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The clearing cuddled in sunlight. I lay in the grass, trying to think of nothing. The beautiful, gentle calm of the forest worked its magic on me once again. God is an artist, I thought. What God? A deep sigh escaped my chest. It's so hard for a Jewish girl to oppose her parents.  
  
Religion never made me feel better. I'm sure it didn't make my mom feel better when she was hit by a car ten years ago. I bet she didn't feel better with God looking over her body, breathless, bloody on the street. No, it was not God who watched her, it was I. I'm sure my dad didn't feel better either. He tried to escape from my mom's death. Dragged me to the synagogue as often as possible. Prayed, prayed, and prayed to be gone with his beloved. It says so on his tombstone.  
  
I reached my hands and let them run through my hair as if trying to tear the memories out. No, I did not want to forget. I would keep them always, as a reminder of what love could do, the way love could kill.  
  
I rolled over a couple times. Stupid evil thoughts! Why won't they just leave me alone? I've learned my lesson. I promise I will not get attached to anyone ever again. "Never," I said aloud and the wind caught my words, weaving them into the trees until all around me the world came into focus on a single word. I lay still. The dead have come for me too many times.  
  
***  
  
The dim light in the corner threw my shadow against the wall across the room. I looked at the clock opposite my bed. Almost eleven at night. I thought I heard the front door open and stood up hopefully. Like a ghost in my white nightgown, I ran downstairs.  
  
"Dad!" I yelled, but only the cat answered me.  
  
He said he'd gone to talk to the rabbi, as he did so many times in the past eight years. I glanced at the clock again. Surely the rabbi would be gone by now. So, where was he? Holding Cleo, my cat, in my arms, I walked over to the phone. The rabbi picked up. He has already gone to sleep but he recalled my dad stopping to talk a couple hours earlier.  
  
"Check the synagogue," he said, yawning into the phone, "He told me he'd pray some more. I didn't lock the doors. Surely he'll be back in a minute. I wouldn't worry."  
  
I didn't say good bye. I rudely hung up on him and dropping the cat, ran up. In a second, my jeans and sweater came on and I ran out into the streets. A tall shadow by the neighbor's house brought my attention.  
  
"Dad?" I whispered hopefully.  
  
"Lily?" Meir stepped into the streetlight.  
  
"Have you seen my dad?"  
  
"No, he was at the synagogue when I left."  
  
"I know that!" I yelled and turning around ran toward the temple.  
  
Soon enough, my best friend caught up to me. He took my hand and helped me get through unto a shortcut through the forest. The temple, as we arrived was all dark except for one window on the second level. We entered and I told Meir to wait for me at the door. I then followed my habit of counting steps up the stairs. 1—2—3—4—5—6—7. I heard shuffling footsteps on the second floor and quickened my pace. 8-9-10-11-12-second flight. Distinctly there came a deep sigh and my father whispered my mom's name. 1- 3-6-9-12  
  
Just as I burst through the heavy wooden door, a stool fell in front of my feet. The boards on the roof moaned and silenced themselves. I saw my father's eyes widen in surprise before turning to opaque glass.  
  
I saw the rabbi taking off the rope next morning. I didn't go to the funeral. I wouldn't be like him. I would not go mad.  
  
***  
  
A shadow hung over me in the declining light. It seemed oblivious to my presence and readily kicked me in the side.  
  
"Hey, watch it!" I yelled with all the feeling appropriate to the situation.  
  
The shadow stopped and considered for a moment, more in surprise than anything else. I got another kick, this time to the foot and the shadow fell flat on me with an "umph." All the air was immediately pushed out of my lungs. I gasped, trying to lift my head and a moustache brushed against my cheek. Unable to speak or scream, I made a violent movement, grabbing the shadow's arms and pushing him, I assumed it was a "him", off me. He yielded and rolled off.  
  
I jumped up. It was, indeed a man. I could not make out his face or his clothes, but it was definitely a man.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I blurted out for lack of anything better to say.  
  
"I don't know, should I be doing something?" a soft, beautiful baritone voice replied as the man rubbed his head.  
  
I was very confused. No one knew about the clearing besides me. No one used the road that goes through it. Well, apparently someone did.  
  
"Where am I?" he mumbled looking around incomprehensively.  
  
"A forest clearing?" I wondered at what exactly he meant.  
  
I decided to slowly back away. That guy could've been on drugs for all I knew. How else would he stumble on a deserted path and not know where he is afterwards? He, however, did not display any characteristics of being intoxicated. Instead, he laughed in full recognition of my words.  
  
"A bit broader, please."  
  
"Nottingham."  
  
"Nottingham, Britain?!"  
  
"Yes, Britain. Where did you think you were?"  
  
"I didn't know. That's why I asked. But certainly not in Britain! It can't be! Perhaps somewhere in the New World, but not Britain."  
  
"New World?!" the man seemed alright, perfectly normal, but the manner in which he spoke was so strange that I did not pick up on what he meant. "America?"  
  
"You look young, lad, but shame on you for not knowing such things!"  
  
"Lad?!" I ran up to the man, ready to slap him.  
  
He stood up and his shadowed profile showed against the rising moon. He grabbed my arm and raised his other hand in a threatening gesture.  
  
"Do I have to teach you manners, lad?!  
  
"Let go. I'm not a god damn lad!"  
  
The man looked surprised beyond all boundaries of understanding. In that mere second I snatched my arm out and backed away once more, this time quite ready to run. I stepped into the moonlight and the man gasped.  
  
"Whoa, you're a lass aren't ye?"  
  
"Yes! No. Don't call me a lass! Who says "lass" anyway?"  
  
"Aren't you a bit loud for a street girl?"  
  
"Are you calling me a whore?!"  
  
"Aren't you one? The indecency! Certainly no lady would go outside in such a garment!" the man yelled at me in indignation.  
  
I looked down at myself. Tight blue jeans, tight black top, and a loosely hanging sweatshirt. I must have blushed scarlet but the moonlight hid my face among the silver strands of light. I pulled the sweatshirt over my shoulders to cover up as much as possible, embraced in a sudden flood of shame.  
  
"No, I'm not," I said. "Most people dress like me."  
  
"What kind of a devilish trick is this? What perverted world have I been thrown into?" the man reached his hands for his head. "What year is it?"  
  
My eyes widened. It couldn't be.  
  
"2004."  
  
The man just sat down. He muttered something to himself and stood up again. Totally disregarding my presence, he paced around the clearing. Then, stopping, he turned to me.  
  
"Would you believe if I told you I'm from a different time?"  
  
I considered.  
  
"Maybe," I said, he was certainly acting strange enough for it to be true.  
  
"I come from the year of "our" Lord 1682," he breathed out and I blinked many times before the sound reached me.  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Can you take me out of the forest?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
I was really close to believing that guy. Really really close, but not quite there. "Just lead him out of the forest and you'll never have to see the man again," I told myself and with a hand motion, strolled unto the trail. 


	4. A Change in the Wind

Joy joy joy. Another chapter. R&R!  
  
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Softly, my feet moved me out of the trees. The stranger walked closely behind. The forest ended abruptly and we landed ourselves in the middle of a large road. Street lamps illuminated the smooth pavement. I turned around.  
  
"Here we are. It was nice to meet you. Good night," I said and turned back.  
  
Suddenly, a car cut the corner and whizzed by blinding us with its headlights. The man jumped up and cursed. Terrified, he looked at the lights as if the metal monsters were at his throat. The road, unnaturally smooth and still warm, was regarded as a passage to hell. The man cursed again.  
  
"What happened? What is this?" he yelled.  
  
Now, I believed him.  
  
"You're really from 1682?"  
  
"Yes, god dammit!" he shouted as another car went by honking at me, as I stood in the middle of the street.  
  
"Then where are you going to stay?"  
  
"No idea."  
  
I scrunched my face in deep thought and then hesitantly, I continued.  
  
"If you're telling the truth, you could stay at my house."  
  
Very slowly and cautiously we made our way down the street. The man stared at the houses around him. I giggled as he almost literally hid from parked cars as I explained what everything was.  
  
"Magic?" he asked.  
  
"No, technology," I replied waving around, "All technology. And that," I pointed at a blue Volkswagen, "That is a car. It transports you around, you drive it. Kind of like a horse, except faster and more comfortable."  
  
"What makes it work?"  
  
"The motor, it revolves and gives power or something."  
  
"Is it the only thing inside?"  
  
"No, of course not," I laughed.  
  
"Then how does it work?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Then how are you sure it's not magic?"  
  
"Here we are," I interrupted and turned unto the little pass before the front door.  
  
I turned the key and let the man inside. He looked around, amazed. I made him take off his boots and marched him upstairs. In the light, I realized his clothes really gave him away. Not very clean and rather ragged, they made him look like an overgrown child on Halloween. For some reason, all his appearance seemed somewhat familiar.  
  
I told the man I will throw him out of the house if he didn't bathe but soon regretted it. It took me half an hour just to explain how to operate the shower and what the towels were for. Then, I found some of Meir's clothes that his family gave me to wash after the washer broke. After another half an hour, he walked over to my room to get the clothes. I stood waiting outside the door. The thought of a stranger in my room was very unnerving.  
  
Finally, I heard a zipper and the man's voice.  
  
"So, who is this man on your wall?"  
  
"Oh," I laughed, "That's Johnny Depp from Pirates of the Carib..."  
  
The thought ran through my brain several times before something clicked. The familiarity, the strange familiarity. I burst through the door in my room to reveal the man with no shirt. Rapidly, I turned around and was about to run out before he grabbed my arm.  
  
"Don't leave. It's alright."  
  
I turned around and looked at my poster. There were the somewhat unclean and ragged clothes. All alike, down to a stitch, the clothes on my bed. I looked up in the familiar face and the eyes, which I looked at for months, answered me with a confused stare. I glanced at the poster again. It seemed so blank now but there was no mistake, it was him.  
  
"So, who is this guy again?" asked my new acquaintance.  
  
"Jack Sparrow," I answered very softly.  
  
"What? And, luv, it's Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
"I know, b-b-but that, that's him too. I mean, that's... you."  
  
He laughed.  
  
"It does look like me, doesn't it? What a great likeness. I assume that is also technology."  
  
I nodded mindlessly. The curtains rustled softly, blowing out of the window. We stood on the carpet, trying to find something to say. I shuffled my feet for a minute and went over to the window.  
  
"Promise me you're not lying. I have to be sure." I said.  
  
"Yes, yes. Why would I make up such a lie anyway? And how do you explain the likeness?" he also made his way toward the window.  
  
"I don't. So you really are a ... pirate?"  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow straightened up and smiled.  
  
"It shows?"  
  
I laughed and looked out the window again. Then, turning around, I said.  
  
"Are you hungry? You must be! Long journey, no?"  
  
Down in the kitchen, I took out the lasagna from the night before and put it in the microwave.  
  
"Are you telling me that that BOX will heat up food?" asked the Captain amusedly poking the table with his fork.  
  
"Yes, and stop that! You're going to damage the table!"  
  
When all was ready, the pirate discovered, surprised that everything was hot. He asked me if I had any rum or wine in the house and I barely contained the urge to smack him over the head. He seemed a bit distraught at the answer but ate nonetheless. Afterward, I made two large cups of hot chocolate. The Captain took immediate liking to it.  
  
"I'm sorry to say there are no pirates anymore," I said.  
  
The Captain's expression sank and under his breath he whispered:  
  
"Damn you, Norrington." Then he paused and continued a bit louder, "Not any? Not at all?"  
  
"Well," I swished my spoon in my cup. "There is technological piracy."  
  
I got an empty stare from the man across the table.  
  
"They're nothing like real pirates though. They basically steal products licensed to a corporation and mass-produce them very cheaply. Then, they sell them. That's usually music and video."  
  
"They sell music in this world?"  
  
"Yea, I'll explain later."  
  
"So, no real pirates?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You want to head for bed now?" I asked and got up.  
  
The pirate somewhat nodded and I ran to pretty up the guest room. Going out, I showed him how to use the light switch and walked out.  
  
"Good night, Captain."  
  
"You can call me, Jack."  
  
"Good night, Jack."  
  
"Good night, Miss." 


End file.
